Uncle Malik

Country of Origin: Pakistan

Currently LIving In: Bronx, NY

Mr. Akbar was born 66 years ago in a village outside of Islamabad, Pakistan and moved to the United States almost four years ago. He belongs to a generation of elders that does not speak with words but instead communicates in poems and likes to talk about how the world has changed to become an increasingly absurd and confusing place. One evening surrounded by family, he spoke of the first time he heard recorded music as a young boy in Pakistan. He was captivated by the sound of the well-trained and melodic voices that were cranked out of a neighbor's old-school record player. Laughingly, he admits he is a product of a bygone era and does not understand why his sons consider the dull repetitive beats that blare out of the living room stereo to be music.

Mr. Akbar is now grappling with an even larger absurdity. He was ordered deported on March 24th 2004 and is facing the grim reality of being forced from this country to live out his final years alone, without his wife and children. To make matters worse, Mr. Akbar suffers from a host of debilitating illnesses including chronic renal failure, type II diabetes, hypertension and anemia. He also suffers from asthma, which can flare up without warning and make walking and other low energy activities a formidable task.

Mr. Akbar attracted the attention of the immigration authorities when he complied with the Bush Administration's Special Registration program last year and has been worried about his impending deportation ever since.

Four of his five children have applied for green cards and will adjust status in the coming months. But they cannot petition to help their dad until they become full-fledged legal permanent residents. To further complicate the situation, as soon as Mr. Akbar steps foot outside of the U.S. he is automatically barred from reentering for at least 10 years. Faced with these prospects Mr. Akbar says, " I will not be deported to Pakistan. Do you know why? Because I will die, I will die the moment I board the plane and am separated from my family."

It is now the beginning of May, and the days Mr. Akbar has to stay in this country are limited. A request for deferred action has been filed with the Department of Home Security (DHS) to which they have six months to respond. Not even the DHS attorney can gauge whether the District Director will give him an answer before Mr. Akbar receives a letter ordering him to report for deportation.

When looking back on the events of the last year Mr. Akbar commented, "This Special Registration program makes no sense. I came forward because I wanted to follow the law. I am being egregiously punished for what? My only transgression has been to be sick and elderly; too sick to the leave the country and too dependent on the care my family provides for me."

The Akbar home is located several blocks away from the subway in a quiet suburban-like neighborhood in the east Bronx. Like any closely-knit family, the Akbars cherish each other's company. Mr. and Mrs. Akbar struggle over a pot to decide who will boil milk for tea and laugh about how she is stronger and the real boss of the family. Their youngest daughter speaks English with a slightly Bronx flavor and explains with excitement the new phrases she picked up when she went out last week. It is an interdependent family: the daughter prepares salt-free Pakistani fare for her father, he gives her advice on her life, and Mrs. Akbar keeps everyone laughing as she snaps the ends of green beans in preparation for the evening meal. It is hard to imagine that in a few weeks all of this will change and that Mr. Akbar will be on a plane, separated from his family and living alone in a country he abandoned years ago all because he voluntarily came forward to be investigated. For complying with the law, the government will destroy his family.